


See You Tomorrow

by Chash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 20:48:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6581551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Assorted short timestamps from tumblr!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dragons - Cake

**Author's Note:**

> Like the summary says, these are all very quick timestamps for various fics I've done that I didn't want to lose track of. Which is why it took me many months to post them. Better late than never, right?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Series](http://archiveofourown.org/series/367421)!

“You don’t eat cake?” Clarke asks. She sounds genuinely distressed about it, as if this is an actual crisis. Which is frankly ridiculous, given they’ve been in deadly combat situations before, and she didn’t look as horrified by those as she does by his general lack of interest in cake.

“Why would I eat cake?” he asks.

“Why wouldn’t you?”

He snorts, trying not lose her as they make their way through the crowded shopping district. As missions go, it’s a pretty simple one, just an escort of a diplomatic envoy, and it’s oddly relaxing. Not that most of their missions are so bad, these days; being an officer in peacetime is fairly easy. But they’re in Italy and have a lot of time to themselves, which he’s really enjoying. Clarke is following him to historical sites, and everyone else is leaving them alone because they don’t want to listen to his opinions. There are much worse ways to spend a week than looking at ruins with his wife.

“I’ve been in the corps almost since birth,” he says. “We don’t have a lot of cake here. As you know.”

“But it’s _cake_ , Bellamy. _Cake_!”

“None of this is convincing me.” He wets his lips, glances at her. She’s dressed in skirts, not her uniform, and she looks like a real lady again. He likes it, he does, but he can’t help being reminded of how different they are in moments like this. He’s eaten at her parents’ estate, and it always makes him feel vaguely itchy, how much food there is, how many people they could feed if they wanted to. “It isn’t as if I’ve _never_  had cake,” he adds. “If it bothers you so much.”

“And you don’t want cake now.”

“It’s expensive. Do you know how many books I could buy for the price of a piece of cake?”

“Half a book? It’s not _that_  expensive, honestly.”

“I’m really good at haggling, though.” He grins. “If you really want me to buy you some cake, I will.”

“I want you to enjoy the cake! We’re in _Italy_ , Bellamy. It’s romantic.”

“Cake is romantic?”

“It’s an overall romantic setting. Cake and history and an exciting, foreign location. And this is probably the closest we’ll get to having a honeymoon. Don’t you want to go and sit on the dragon and eat cake while we look at the city?”

When she puts it like that, he really does, but he can’t resist teasing her a little. “Couldn’t we do that same thing, but with books, instead of cake?”

“We’re getting cake and you’re going to enjoy it, Bellamy Blake. Don’t even pretend you won’t.”

And, of course, the cake is delicious, and Clarke is absolutely right: it’s a lovely, romantic moment.

“This is better with cake,” she tells him, bumping her shoulder against his.

“You’re just reading the wrong books,” he says, but steals half a bite of her cake anyway. It’s good cake.

Her smile is smug. “Yes, that must be it.”


	2. Clarke&Lincoln Hogwarts AU - Patronus Charm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Original fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6106353)!

To his shock, Lincoln is the only one in his year who has any talent for the Patronus Charm.

“Can’t you help?” Clarke asks, poking Bellamy in the side. Lincoln bites back on a smile; in the three weeks since they started dating, he’s not sure they’ve managed to go without touching each other for more than thirty seconds when they’re in the same room. “You did this last year.”

“That just means I sucked at it last year,” he says. “How do you do it?” he adds to Lincoln.

“It’s easy,” he says. “I just think happy thoughts and say the spell.”

Clarke gives him a proud smile. “The Professor said she’s never seen anyone do so well on the first try before. She made him do it again so everyone could watch.”

“Maybe he’s just happier than you are,” Bellamy suggests. “As a person.”

“Definitely,” says Clarke. “I couldn’t even pick a happiest memory. Did you just have one ready?”

“I’m right here,” Bellamy says, mild. “Are you saying I’m not your happiest memory?”

“In contention,” she says. “But there’s other good stuff in my life.” She smiles at Lincoln. “My first thought was actually when you came to talk to me after the Sorting. I was so sure I wasn’t gonna have friends after that. I don’t know if I’ve ever been that happy again.”

Bellamy shifts, uncomfortable, probably remembering how _he_  treated her those first few years, and Lincoln hides his amusement. Being Clarke’s fondest memory isn’t a competition, but he’s still glad he’s doing so well at it. 

“So, what’s yours?” Clarke prompts Lincoln. “Your best memory?”

Lincoln shrugs. “I don’t have one.”

“What?” asks Octavia. She hasn’t tried the charm yet herself, not until her sixth year, but she always likes hearing stories about her brother not doing things well. “How does that work? I thought you had to have one.”

He shrugs. “I just think of people. You and Clarke,” he says, kissing her hair. “Bellamy, when he’s not scowling at me.”

“So, not Bellamy,” Clarke teases.

“Miller and Raven and Monty,” Lincoln continues. “Everyone. I think of my friends, and it’s easy.”

There’s a long pause, and then Clarke drops her head back onto Bellamy’s shoulder with a sigh. “We’re never going to be as good at this as he is, are we?”

“Nope,” he agrees. “Lincoln is obviously the best at friendship and happiness.”

He pulls out his wand, closes his eyes, feels the warmth of Octavia against his side, pictures Clarke and Bellamy, so happy together, and when he says, “Expecto Patronum,” the silvery stag leaps out of his wand, an easy extension of himself. “The very best,” he agrees, smiling. “But I’ll be happy to teach you.”


	3. A Movie Script Ending - Pool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Original fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5993053)!

Bellamy’s phone buzzes in his pocket right as he’s lining up his shot, and he jumps and manages to accidentally pocket the cue ball. Clarke grins, all triumphant, and he manages a scowl even though all he really wants to do is kiss her.

He’s working a long game. He’ll get there.

“I got a text,” he says, fishing his phone out.

“Uh huh. Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

“I’m _winning_ ,” he tells her, with a scowl he can’t keep up when he sees the message: Miller, saying, _I’m taking Monty home, try not to fuck this up for me._

“What?” Clarke asks.

“Miller finally made a move on your roommate.”

That screws up her shot so badly she actually hits herself in the face with her pool cue. Which is unexpected. He thought she liked Miller.

“ _What_?”

“What?”

“Miller?”

“Yeah.”

“Your boyfriend made a move on my roommate?” she asks, incredulous, and it’s Bellamy’s turn to stare.

“My what?”

“Miller’s your boyfriend.” Her tongue darts out to wet her lips. “Right? You said you had a boyfriend. And Miller’s–”

“I never said that.”

Her jaw works. “You did.” And then she adds, “It’s your shot.”

He lines up, trying to think. Clarke thinks he has a _boyfriend_? Not even just _a_ boyfriend, but Miller, specifically, which is just–fucking _weird_. Why would she possibly think he’s seeing anyone? He’s not opposed to having a boyfriend, which he knows Clarke knows, they’ve talked about both being bi, but–he’s been single the entire time he’s known her.

“I’m not seeing anyone,” he tells her, once he’s sunk his shot. “Miller has a thing for your roommate. It’s cute. I’m pretty sure they’re going to our place to hook up.” He wets his lips. “Seriously, when did I say I had a boyfriend?”

“A month before my birthday,” she says, instantly. “I said I missed having a boyfriend and you said–”

It takes him a second, and she takes her own shot while he thinks about it. She’s not looking at him, but it feels meaningful, the way she refuses to meet his eyes.

“Fuck,” he says. 

“You’re a dumbass.”

“Thanks.” He watches as she leans against the wall, and takes his shot. “So, uh–yeah.”

“You really didn’t get what I was going for with that statement, huh.”

“Which?”

“ _I miss having a boyfriend_.”

“It had a hidden meaning?”

She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move, and when he finally looks up, she looks _wrecked_. He puts down his cue and goes over to her, hoping he’ll have figured out something to say by the time he gets there.

She talks first. “I’ve been fucking–” She rubs her face, lets out a harsh breath. “I’ve been beating myself up for having a thing for a guy who’s _taken_ ,” she says, and it’s simultaneously the best thing he’s ever heard and heartbreaking, because she sounds ripped open. “I’m not supposed to be that person, Bellamy.”

“Shit,” he says. “Um. You’re not, okay? I–Jesus, I was trying to be cool, not–I’m not taken and I’m so fucking into you, I had no idea you were–” He sighs. “I was trying to figure out how to ask you out, and you thought I was with Miller.”

“Yeah.” There’s a pause, and then she says, “If you win this game, I’ll go out with you.”

“What if you win?”

“You’ll go out with me.” She finally meets his eyes, and it’s almost too much. She’s been _holding back_. She must have been, because he’d remember if she ever looked at him like that before. “Deal?”

“Deal,” he says, and then he can’t help cupping her jaw, tilting her face up, and kissing her. It’s supposed to be a quick little apology of a kiss, but when he pulls back, she chases him, and before he quite knows it he’s got her up on the pool table and they’re probably not being appropriate, even for a dive bar. “I’m a fucking dumbass,” he admits, dropping his head onto her shoulder.

“Really bad at social cues.”

“Really bad.”

“We still need to finish this game,” she reminds him.

“Or we could call it a draw. Everyone wins.”

“I think everyone lost,” she says, but her tone is teasing.

He squeezes her hand. “I think we’re about to start winning, then.”

She laughs and slides off the table. “Okay, yeah. Call it a draw.”


	4. Sing to Me, Muse - Smut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Original fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6053830)!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No actual smut, but sex talk.

“Seriously, like half my inbox is _blah blah blah AND SMUTTY_ ,” Bellamy says, groaning. “Like–what the fuck?”

“People like smut. Also water is wet and sugar is sweet.” She flops down next to him. “What’s wrong with _blah blah blah AND SMUTTY_?”

“I don’t know. I don’t write smut. My _sister_  reads my fanfic. And it’s–I don’t know. Why does it have to be smutty? What would I even write?”

“I don’t know, it depends on the blah blah blah,” she says.

“Most of the time it doesn’t even follow. Like– _Sophie/Akiko, they get a puppy, and smutty, obv_. How is that obviously smutty? Are they fucking the dog, Clarke? Is that a fandom thing? I don’t want to know if they’re fucking the dog.”

“I promise no one wants the dog to be involved. Or, like, almost no one. Again, people just like thinking about their favorite characters having sex. You don’t think about that?”

“No. Is that weird? I feel like thinking about it is weirder.”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. I get off to fanfic smut all the time.”

“Wait, really?”

She laughs. “How is this a surprise?”

“I don’t know. I just–I usually skip the stuff with an E rating. Half the people in this fandom are like nineteen, I’d feel weird reading their porn.”

Clarke slides closer. “Okay, but–you don’t think about it at all? Really?”

“Think about what?”

“Smut. You know. Ilan blowing Ganymede, Akiko fingering Sophie, Demetrius eating Ana out until she screams.”

He shifts a little because, honestly, he hadn’t thought about that, but Clarke saying that shit is basically always going to be a turn-on. 

“Well, now I am.”

“So pick one, we’ll write it.”

He swallows hard. Octavia isn’t home, and he was assuming he’d get laid tonight, but–this is new. “We?”

“You don’t read or write smut, so you need my expect guidance.” She snuggles in against his side. “Ooh, that one’s good.”

“Which?”

She points. “ _Demetrius/Ana, Ana finds out Demetrius is a virgin and decides someone needs to teach him how sex works._  See, it’s clearly connecting the smut to the prompt, so it’s, like easy mode. And I can see Demetrius as a virgin. His whole life has been pretty work-focused and he’s really inept with Ana, so–”

“Yeah, I guess I could see that.”

“So she’s more experienced,” Clarke says, nuzzling his neck. “And she’s going to help him out. What does he want?”

“Uh,” he says, because her hand is definitely sliding under his shirt. “I can’t tell if we’re roleplaying or what.” 

“Nope. I’m just touching you a lot but we’re not having sex until you write this fic. And I promise anything you write, I’ll do to you.”

“Anything?”

She nips his earlobe. “ _Anything._ ”

“Huh,” says Bellamy. He opens up the reply window. “I could get into smut.”

Clarke grins. “Yeah. I thought maybe you could.”


End file.
